Pink Lady
by GetItWrite
Summary: Draco compares the woman in his life to apples. I know, it sounds a bit odd, but just read and it will make more sense.


**A/N: So we were talking about apple varieties in calc (i know, it's weird, but that's my teacher for you) and I couldn't help but relate it to Dramione. Lately, I have been comparing everything to Dramione. Songs, television shows, movies, you name it. Anyway, this was the result. Just a oneshot, and I hope you like it.**

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Draco sat serenely on the veranda, the sun was high and the sky was clear. It was a beautiful summer afternoon, warm with a light breeze. He sighed and bit into his apple. It was a Pink Lady, his favorite.

Ever since he was a boy, he had loved apples. They were round and succulent, light in his hand, and firm yet crisp enough to sink your teeth into. The sweetness of the Pink Lady mangled with its hint of tartness made the buds on his tongue tingle with appreciation. He thought it tasted almost like champagne, making it the perfect snack for a summer afternoon. The Pink Lady's skin was white with a blush of pink, and it almost glittered in the sun's rays.

It was somewhat of a habit to compare all the women in his life to apples. He had been doing so for as long as he could remember.

Pansy was a Jonathan. Sure she had spice, but was too tart and tangy for his liking. Besides, she was not to pretty to look at, either.

Daphne Greengrass was Crispin. She was the first girl he had slept with after Pansy. She was sweeter than any woman he had ever known, which was only Pansy and his mother, so there was not much to compare her to. She was also refreshing, a change of pace from the ever-demanding, high-maintenance witch whom he had squandered all those years on.

He had a fling with his secretary, June Brockton. She was a McIntosh, tart and sweet, but too tender. She had professed her love for him after only two weeks, and he bolted, fast. It wasn't that he was afraid of commitment; he just didn't _want_ commitment with her.

After that, his mother had set him up with a girl named Gemma Jacobs, a beautiful model who he was instantly attracted to. She was a Golden Delicious, beautiful on the outside and sweet on the inside. He soon found that there was not much to her, however, other than her elegant features. No edge or mystery, and definitely no depth. He wished he could say that he broke things off with her, but she ran off with some dunce from the Chudley Cannons and married him for his money.

After that tryst, he met a girl named Alyson Margrow, and dated her for a while. She was a Red Delicious. It was true that she was very sweet, but was too commonplace and plain for his taste. There was nothing, really, that set her apart from other women, and he became bored with her very soon and ended things.

Then there was Granger, whom he had always considered to be a Granny Smith. She was way too tart and firm. She was uptight and carried an uncanny resemblance to his former Transfiguration professor.

That was before he knew her, before he began to work for the same company as her. They both worked for the Potions unit of the International Cooperation Department. Their job was to regulate the potions that were exchanged between countries. Every potion that went in or out of Britain had to pass their inspections first. Draco always found himself working on a potion with her; that was how it began.

At first he remained convinced that she was a Granny Smith, as she remained sour towards him, never forgetting the way he had treated her. Slowly, ever-so slowly, he realized that she was not.

Not with the way she tried hard not to smile at his humor, and he knew that she didn't want to give into him.

Not with the way she eventually began to laugh at him, her eyes bright with appreciation for his wit.

Not with the way she extended a hand to him after one of their usual arguments and insisted they start over.

Not with the way she called him her friend, unintentionally, and turned away in embarrassment when she finally realized it.

Not with the way she blushed when Draco finally plucked up the courage to ask her out on a date.

Not with the way she hustled about when he showed up at her door and she was running late, mumbling apologies as she finally took his arm and he Apparated them away.

Not with the way her eyes lit up as they laughed and joked on their surprisingly comfortable first date.

Not with the way she looked straight into his eyes and Draco thought she could see his soul.

Not with the way she wrapped her arms around his neck as he kissed her for the first time that night on her doorstep.

Not with the way she timidly invited him inside, but only for tea and "nothing more!"

Not with the way she fell asleep in his arms as they watched some odd-looking box that played moving pictures with sound.

Not with the way she defended Draco to Harry and Ron when they found out, two months later, that they were dating.

Not with the way her eyes filled with loving tears as she admitted that she was falling hard for him.

Not with the way she smiled as he told her that he had already fallen.

Not with the way she moaned as he filled her and they moved in steady rhythm together.

Not with the way she screamed his name as her climax overtook her.

Not with the way she mumbled, "I love you," as she came down from her high and collapsed in his arms.

Not with the way she traced circles and hearts on his chest as they lay on her bed in the moonlight, telling each other their greatest fears and deepest desires.

Not with the way she could only laugh, and cry, and nod her head when he proposed to her three months later.

Not with the way she glowed with happiness when she showed Harry, Ginny, and Ron her engagement ring.

Not with the way she clutched his shirt as she cried on his shoulder after Ron had stormed angrily from the room.

Not with the way she cried with happiness when Draco got along so well with her parents.

Not with the way she held his hand in trepidation when he took her to meet his parents.

Not with the way she sighed in relief as his mother embraced her and welcomed her into the family.

Not with the way she bravely took his father's hand and politely accepted his apology for the way he had treated her.

Not with the way she quietly told Draco that although she had accepted his apology, she was not certain she could ever forgive him.

Not with the way she smiled compassionately when Ron showed up at their flat begging for forgiveness.

Not with the way she glimmered in the sunlight as she walked down the aisle on her father's arm, her eyes directed solely at Draco as everyone stood to gaze adoringly at her.

Not with the way her eyes glistened as they exchanged their vows.

Not with the way a tear escaped her eyes and landed on his cheek as he kissed his wife for the first time.

Not with the way she beamed when the Priest announced them Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy.

Not with the way she threw her head back and laughed genially when her father recounted some embarrassing story from her childhood in his toast.

Not with the way she held his gaze that night when they made love as man and wife for the first time.

Not with the way she kissed his chest and whispered, "I love you," as he wrapped his arms around her.

Not with the way she began to cry when she told him she was pregnant, fearing for his reaction.

Not with the way she sobbed even harder when he grabbed her waist and spun her around, kissing her hard on the mouth to show her how happy he was.

Not with the way her cheeks reddened when as she lost her breakfast and Draco held her hair back.

Not with the way she sighed when he stroked her hair and told her he loved her more than she would ever know.

Not with the way she smiled when they found out they were having a baby girl.

Not with the way she giggled when Draco had to throw out all the stuffed animals, trains, trucks, and blue baby clothes he had bought in hopes that it was a boy.

Not with the way she nearly broke his hand as their baby girl, Isabel Malfoy, made her way into the world.

Not with the way she lovingly kissed the baby's forehead as she lay in the hospital bed.

Not with the way she laughed as Draco asked her if it was possible to love someone so much after only knowing them for ten minutes.

Not with the way she spoke tenderly to Isabel as she placed her in her crib, welcoming her home.

Not with the way she sang the lullaby that her mother had sang to her every night as they put her to bed.

"Draco," came a soft voice from the doorway.

Draco took another bite of his apple and turned to smile at her.

"Yes, love?"

"I just put Isabel down for her nap, and was thinking that it would be nice to relax for a bit," Hermione said, as he stood and pulled her into his arms.

"Do you need help relaxing?" he asked with a smirk.

"Perhaps," she smiled, pulling his tie and leading him back into the bedroom.

No, Granger was no Granny Smith. She was a Pink Lady. She was his Pink Lady.

_The End_.

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**A/N: Please review, this was my first oneshot and I'm not too sure how well I did. I'm biting my already-too-short fingernails in anticipation for how this is accepted, so please let me know what you thought so I can get some peace. Thanks!**


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